


Guilt's A Language You Can Understand

by easilydistractedbyfanfic



Series: In Between [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Could Be Canon, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, If things went darker, Infidelity, Porn With Plot, What-If, takes place in season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easilydistractedbyfanfic/pseuds/easilydistractedbyfanfic
Summary: Prompt: Murphy/Raven and desperate, rough sexThe intense and complex emotions stirred up in Becca's Lab go a little differently





	Guilt's A Language You Can Understand

**Author's Note:**

> This was another KM prompt I couldn't resist. Things got pretty heated in Becca's Lab during that run-up to Praimfaya, and I always thought Raven was disappointed in herself with regard to how she lost her temper so spectacularly. What if it bothered her enough to do something about it?
> 
> Story Title and Series Title taken blatantly from "In Between" by Linkin Park  
> ****************************************************************************

She wishes she could say she regrets it. She's not perfect, but wanting to do the right thing has always been near the top of her priority list. Sure, she may be blunt, bossy and even she can admit she's not a particularly friendly personality at times, but at heart she's always been a good person, just a little rough around the edges. Maybe she can't say that about herself anymore though, the being a good person part.

 

She supposes she could blame the remnants of Becca in her brain, but even to her that feels like an easy excuse. Just because she’s hearing and seeing someone that no one else does, and just because she’s having seizures that cause strokes doesn’t mean that she’s not ultimately in control of herself and her choices.

 

Does it make it any better if it wasn't premeditated? That's probably meaningless in the grand scheme of things, because she's well aware that the guilt she's feeling wouldn't exist if she hadn't done something _wrong_. But it really hadn't been intentional, she knows that to be true. Things had just... gotten out of hand.

 

It happened just a few hours ago. Everything about the past few days had been tense, tense, tense. Fuck, if she was being honest, every day that went by since she landed on this godforsaken planet had been that way. But the pressure in Becca’s lab to figure things out, make the Nightblood, find answers all while worrying about her brain and the damage it took with each seizure - that had been another level of stress and panic, and it had affected her more than she cared to admit.

 

Along with Emori and Murphy, she was supposed to be packing up, getting things ready to go to the bunker, but something had nagged at her, and her thoughts were full of how she’d exploded at Murphy during all those rocket simulations where she just couldn’t figure out a solution. She’d never lost her temper quite like that before, had been genuinely trying to hurt him with her furious words and punches and scratches, and it was almost as though time had slowed down and she could _see_ her behavior at the same time she was acting it out. It had been a strange combination to feel both pure rage and disgust with herself that she was acting so maliciously. Luna had stepped in, had helped pull her away and calm her down, but the damage had been done - to him as well as to herself.

 

Later, he’d come back and had given her the advice that had helped to solve the landing problem, and they’d had a tentative truce between them. But still… her conduct had bothered her, and as much as she hated admitting she was wrong, she knew her conscience wasn’t going to let up unless one of those seizures managed to kill her or fry her brain to the point of being goo. In hindsight, it’s fucking hilarious in a horrible way that she felt a desire to soothe her guilt, because that’s what led to doing something even worse.

 

Although her attention span wasn’t at her best and she hadn’t been taking notice of things in the way she usually did, she was aware that Murphy and Emori had gone off alone for sex earlier, and she had heard their hushed discussions about how Emori thought no one would come for them and how they were considering trying to go to the lighthouse bunker instead. Even with the fucking brain damage though, she never doubted they’d come for _her_ , but she didn’t have time for hand-holding and promises, so she had decided that they’d see it for themselves soon enough. But then her conscience had nagged again, butting in with possibilities and plans-gone-awry, wondering what if she never saw Murphy again and never got a chance to say that she was sorry for what she had done? And that’s what had done it, that worry that she might again have to carry the burden of too many things left unsaid, like she already carried with her mother, with Finn, with Sinclair… she couldn’t do that again, even if it meant apologizing to fucking _Murphy_ , of all people.

 

So when Emori had gone back to the mansion for a few things that had been forgotten, she’d taken a deep breath, told herself she was Raven Reyes and could handle anything, and had followed Murphy into one of the large storage closets where he was carelessly putting supplies into yet another bin.

 

That’s when it had happened, of course, and even now, thinking back, exactly how it had started was fuzzy. Funny, because other parts were crystal clear… Still, she remembered that he’d looked at her cautiously with that piercing blue gaze of his, and that when she’d finally managed to tell him that she was sorry for the mean things that she’d said, the expression on his face had changed. He’d _looked_ at her, and it had felt different. Maybe that’s what started it, she didn’t know, but one moment they were looking at each other and the next moment his mouth was solid against hers, their bodies crushed together and hands tearing at each others clothes.

 

It would be nice to be able to lie to herself at this point, to say that she’d spared a thought for his girlfriend, that she had considered the ramifications of getting caught, the damage it could do, of becoming what she legitimately hated - a cheater, the other woman, the bitch that ruined everything. But the truth was that there was no thinking, there was only the blissful certainty of _yes, this, yes_ and then her brain went silent for the first time in forever and all she could do was feel.

 

Feel how his mouth slanted over hers and both punished and pleased. Feel how his hands roughly pulled her hips to him so he could push his hardness against her. Feel the soft hairs at the base of his skull as her fingers scratched up his neck and his responding moan resonated through her as his tongue stroked her tongue and her pussy pulsed with desire. Feel how he’d lifted her by the backs of her thighs and sat her on a stack of crates, all while his lips stayed fused to hers. Feel the way her nipples had tightened when he’d pushed up her tank top and bra and stared hungrily at her breasts before he bent his head to put his mouth all over her.

 

Fast. Things had happened fast, she remembered that too. Her panties had been soaked fast, and Murphy had been fast when he’d yanked off her boot and tugged one side of her pants down, freeing her good leg. She’d been quick to wrap that naked leg around his waist and slide her hand into his pants to squeeze his cock, and the way he’d groaned against her ear sent a rush of slick to her cunt. And it had been almost embarrassingly fast that she’d come so quickly when two of his fingers had pushed her underwear aside, slid along her slippery folds and then plunged inside her so demandingly that she’d let out a guttural yelp as she quivered against him.

 

Her pussy was still spasming from her orgasm when he removed his fingers and pushed himself inside her in one deep thrust. It had been overwhelming, bordering on too much stimulation, and she recalled how she’d been whimpering, her hands slipping under his shirt, her moans growing louder each time he’d driven himself into her. He kept one hand at her lower back, pressing her hard against him, but his other hand tangled in her hair and had jerked her head backwards. He had kissed her again, his tongue mirroring each stab of his cock, and it had made her frantic, had her writhing against him in desperation. There had been an urgency between them, a roughness that should have been a hate fuck but wasn’t, something unknown that was just out of her grasp.

 

She’d wrenched her mouth free, teetering on the brink and greedy to come again. He’d watched her with that penetrating stare, and she’d begged him to fuck her harder, knowing he could give her more. It was like her words were a switch, giving him permission, because after that it had almost been like being caught in a deluge of sensation with lightning crackling along her skin, behind her eyelids, against her tongue as it fought with his. Her body went taut and she throbbed around him, and he swallowed her every sound as his hips jerked bruisingly against hers. She felt him twitch deep inside her as he came, and it had been satisfying in a way she couldn’t describe when he’d gasped her name into her neck, and his weight pushed her backwards on the crates.

 

After, he’d eventually moved off her. They didn’t speak, but her guilt about attacking him had been gone then, evaporated into the ether due to her words of apology and the way they’d touched each other with want instead of pain. She thinks he helped her fix her pants, maybe even put her boot on too. She does know she left the room first. She went back to packing up an area of the lab, her mind skittering from one topic to another. That’s how she found herself here, back in the rocket. Becca’s talking to her again, and Raven has to say - the woman has a lot of amazing ideas. The possibility of spacewalking again appeals to her, feels like a poetic justice of sorts, and the more she reflects on it, the more she knows it’s what she’ll do. She stops packing up, instead starts to gather supplies for her own, more private, journey.

 

A few hours pass, she doesn’t know, but she looks up at the sound of Emori’s laughter, abruptly aware of her surroundings again. She wishes she could say she regrets it, but she doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> To me this story really isn't about cheating, even though that was a result of what happened. To me, this was about their state of mind - what they've each been through since Murphy first shot her to this stage of S4, the guilt and the complex emotions they each bring to the other, the worry that they're getting closer to potential death, and in a way, the maturity they've experienced in how they each now process life because of the traumas and losses they've had to deal with. Their perspectives are very different from what they used to be because of all they've been through - at least this is how I see it. So it all just culminated in this heated moment, and now I want to explore both Murphy's thoughts about it, and the ramifications of what will come next. 
> 
> Because damn - now they've had this moment of connection, soon to be followed by her telling him she's going to float herself, and he leaves her alone on Becca's island. How do they both feel about THAT? And how do they both feel about it when everyone comes back for her and they end up going to space together for six years? Do they put it behind them, do they think about it? Do they feel guilty? Does Murphy regret it and does Raven change her own feelings about it? How does it affect their relationship with each other and with the others?
> 
> I loved exploring this possibility, and it is absolutely one I am going to revisit. I have mentally planned another chapter with Murphy's POV of what happens, and then a third (probably longer) story about how this affects them spending six years in space together and the fallout of that. As with all my planned sequels though, no lie - I have a billion ideas for stories and always write the one that nags at me most. So there's no schedule, don't kill me!


End file.
